


throw me a bone

by bry0psida



Series: 12 Days Of Harringrove [11]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Dogs, No Plot/Plotless, One Shot, Pre-Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:14:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22100062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bry0psida/pseuds/bry0psida
Summary: Steve's neighbor sucks. His dog doesn't.
Series: 12 Days Of Harringrove [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1580533
Kudos: 50





	throw me a bone

**Author's Note:**

> "We’re neighbours who don’t talk because you seem awfully grumpy but then you buy your dog a winter coat and shoes and i need a photo to show my friends." [Prompt](https://strangerfictions.tumblr.com/post/189410279379/christmas-prompt-list)

Steve’s neighbor is hot. Like, unbelievably hot. Make your draw drop and lose your train of thought in polite company hot.

He’s also a giant douchebag.

Always throws parties without asking if it’s ok with the other neighbors, doesn’t invite anyone in the building, always blasting 80’s metal at an unreasonable volume at ridiculous times during the day. He hogs the washing machines and driers in the complex laundromat, leaves his shit in there for hours, leaving whatever unlucky soul in need of a machine to take out his clothes and dump them back in his basket. Steve’s only done it once, vowed to never do it again when the clothes hadn’t even been washed yet and he got hefty waft of sweaty gym clothes.

94, as Steve’s taken to calling him since he doesn’t know or care what his name actually is and that’s the number on his door, has one redeeming quality, and that is his dog. He’s got a beautiful little frenchie, grey brown with a tan chest and paws (Steve calls ‘em socks), pale eyes, always got a big smile on his face.

His name is Jasper, and he _loves_ Steve, which 94 isn’t all that into to. Probably down to the time Steve cornered him in the hallway and reamed him for constantly having loud parties with a dog in a tiny apartment, got a _he’s deaf, you idiot_ , for his trouble.

He begrudgingly let’s Steve pet him whenever they pass each other on the way in or out of the building, accepted Steve’s poorly wrapped doggy gift basket on Christmas eve, even slipped a note under Steve’s door with the handle for Jasper’s instagram.

Steve doesn’t see Jasper all that often, always keeps treats in his pockets in the event he does, sneaks them into his palm when 94 is on his phone or bobbing his head to some tinny Aerosmith blasting out his headphones. It’s always a more than welcome surprise.

It’s snowing heavy today, Steve’s on his way into the building, stomping the snow off his boots in the doorway. He hears Jasper’s husky barks before he sees him. Steve gets down on his knees and opens his arms. 94 rolls his eyes but drops the leash, Jasper skids across the slippery tile and leaps into Steve’s arms, snuffles and slobbers all over his face. Steve gives him a healthy dose of kisses and sneaky treats before putting him down and watching him wiggle his way back to 94.

94 doesn’t acknowledge him first, never does if he can avoid it, today seems to be no exception. He crouches down, digs something out of his bag. Steve lingers. 94 pulls out a tiny hand knit dog sweater and little snow booties. Jasper’s a good dog, well trained, doesn’t fight having the clothes put on, grumbles just a little as his paws are tucked into the boots. Steve is _dying_.

 _“Ohmygodhelookssocute!”_ Steve squeaks.

94 chuckles, all gravel. “Doesn’t he?”

Steve whips out his phone. “Please can I get a selfie with your dog?” He’s wanted to ask before, Jasper’s more often than not sporting sporting something profoundly instagramable.

94 doesn’t consider it or complain like Steve expects him to, just shrugs. “Sure, why not.”

Steve thanks him then whistles, Jasper gallops over, light on his feet in his little shoes. Steve takes copious photos, who knows when he’s gonna be comfy enough asking again. He kisses the dog, he cradles the dog like a baby, takes a nasty video of Jasper trying to lick the inside of Steve’s nose.

The snap of a camera gets his attention. 94 is holding up his own phone with a big grin on his face. Steve’s phone buzzes right as 94 slides it back into his pocket. “The angle was good from here, had to take a picture. I sent it to you on insta.”

Steve checks his phone. It’s the only notification on his screen. He opens it, laughs when he sees how stupid he looks. 94 walks over, picks up Jasper’s leash, holds out a hand. Steve eyes it for a moment before taking it. 94’s hand is warm, even through two layers of gloves.

“I’m Billy, by the way. Billy Hargrove.” He says with a toothy smile.

Steve returns it. “Steve Harrington."


End file.
